


I'll Be Seeing You

by micahandthebees



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, F/M, Happy Ending, No angst allowed, Secret Relationship, a bad 1920s au, also finally the most important tag, but like, like bad downton abbey or bad atonement
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-03-17 06:23:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18959647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micahandthebees/pseuds/micahandthebees
Summary: Gendry is employed by Ned Stark, Lord of the North, as his chauffeur and automechanic when he and the rest of his family seperate for the summer, leaving their third and fourth children alone in the house. While Master Stark has been calm, kind and forthcoming, his sister, Miss Stark, leaves him reeling after every interaction as she stomps and frowns at him. But he's holding her new pup, Nymeria, and her cheeks are flushed and for once it's not from the heat, much to her dismay.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is in honour of Corinne who literally saw that same post about rich girl arya locked in her fancy house getting close with the stablehand gendry and wrote her own au I dont know how to link but read corinnemaree's two got aus she is good and i love her
> 
> Gendrys a mechanic bc i dont like horses. also sansas with margaery bc i cant write joe jonas in as a character in the 1920s but i would if i could.
> 
> I have never heard of editing.

The master leads him around the house to the where the kitchens are, tucked away behind the country mansion but overlooking the enormous fields, with a forest skirting around fields covered in tall grass and wildflowers. The fresh summer air fills his lungs, clearing out the toxins of King's Landing, the weather far cooler than the summers of his youth spent in the overcrowded city working in the shop.

He's grateful to be in the north, even if he's freezing. He like the anonymity of the country, the space to breathe, the quietness of the wind rustling through the overgrown meadows. He likes the people and their thick accents and strong attitudes, even if they don't trust outsiders. 

Lord Stark, when he hired him, personally made sure to be seen by the commonfolk of Winter Town with Gendry to ensure that Gendry wouldn't be denied services when word spread that he was Southron. While excessive, the people of the North have been known to turn away others over the smallest reasons, so Gendry won't say no to any help he can get. 

He hadn't needed it, really, or maybe word spread faster than he could imagine, because he was accepted with open arms when they heard he was working as the Stark's chauffeur. The Starks are idolised by their people, a kind and benevolent family, with 5 or 6 or 7 children, depending on who you asked. Currently, the family is split across the country and he had only met Lord Stark before he too had to depart on business, meaning Gendry was learning about the family from the staff. Lord and Lady Stark had five children, two girls and three boys, and cared for a sixth, Jon, a cousin adopted into the family as a baby after he was orphaned, and a seventh, their ward, Theon, who grew with the children and is considered as much of a brother as Jon. 

He settles at the table for his meal, the cook, a young man named Hot Pie, having prepared breakfast for the staff while Davos, the Stark's Butler and head of staff, goes through the day's plan as usual.

"First order of business, Lady Stark has departed this morning for the Vale with Lady Stark and Master Stark, meaning that with them gone, only Master Stark and Lady Stark remain in Winterfell. While they are gone, Lady Stark has asked that we do a complete turnover of their rooms, starting with hers and Lord Stark's. She is expecting to return to a spotless house, so we will do the public rooms and occupied bedrooms twice and the unoccupied rooms once. "

"Master Stark has requested we inform him of the days we are in the library so that he may be wheeled to the garden instead and Lady Stark had nothing to say on the matter, but she's in a mood for being left behind in the house for the summer so I advise you all to be on your best behaviour should you see her."

Davos gave a sigh. "She's also likely to attempt to sneak out of the house again to the town without a proper chaperone so please attempt to delay her if you catch her" He said with a shake of his head.

Gendry had no idea which Master and Ladies were still in the house, only that Master Jon was away at the Wall and that Lord Stark had returned to Kings Landing. He assumed that the Master Stark that had remained was the one in the chair, Brandon, he thinks, who was badly injured as a young boy from what he gathered from the maids. 

There were four Ladies, Lord Stark's wife, their two daughters, and Master Jon's wife, who he lives with at the Wall. Lady Stark had taken one of her daughters with her, apparently leaving behind the youngest that must be the Lady they speak of. The number of people who shook their heads and huffed at the antics of the remaining Lady Stark was high, she must be quite a force if she has made such an impression.

He wasn't going to be needed often while the family was away with the rest of the drivers, so he would be acting in other roles until he was needed to take someone to the town, starting with the gardeners, repairmen and stablehands. This morning he would be working on his engines and then assisting the repairmen with household fixes, so he left quietly, slipping out to finish his food while the sun rose, lighting up the countryside and revealing someone standing in the meadows, small and still, who turned and walked towards the other end of the house once the sun left the horizon. 

Gendry furrowed his brow, watching as they disappeared into the house, trying to remember if anyone was missing from the meeting. They walked with confidence. But he has work to do, so he turns away, the figure remaining on his mind.

 

\---------

 

She is crouched behind the bust of Aunt Lyanna, trying to pry off the freshly sealed wall panel that opens to a small chute out to the garage, when Davos catches her yet again. He looms over her while she glares up at him from the floor, with the butterknife she stole from breakfast clenched in her hand. 

"My Lady, if you'd promise to go with someone on your adventures and not attempt to lose them on your way, your father would quite happily give you permission to leave the grounds." He said while offering a hand to her. She very pointedly did not accept the help, instead making sure the knife loudly clattered on the floor as she clambered up as ungracefully as possible. 

"Maybe if you all trusted me then we would not have this problem."

Davos closed his eyes for a second. "This is not an issue of trust, my Lady. You can not go out to the town alone, it is not proper! And considering the last time you were there alone, you have to understand why your family is concerned."

"That man deserved what he got."

"He deserved a knife through his hand?"

"For his actions, yes he did."

Davos sighed.

"May I suggest you stop attempting to destroy your home and instead try reading a book? Or join your brother in the gardens? The weather is lovely today and one of the maids has made up her special lemon and elderflower cordial. I could have a glass brought to you?" He said firmly.

She did not want to spend the day with Bran as he sat in silence and stared at the roses, but she has had that cordial before and it is worth the pain of sitting still outside, but Davos can not know he won. "I will take one of the horses for a ride" she concedes. Davos gives her a small smile and a nod as he turns sharply and goes to leave, before turning back around with his hand out. She grumbles while handing the knife over.

\-----------

The gramophone in the parlor is playing Jenny of Oldstones and the sweet violin and brass floats across the gardens to where Arya rests on a bench under the big weirwood tree with her glass and an unopened book, The Great Clegane by a Southron writer, S.W Tarly. She rode for a few hours but the sun was becoming unbearable, so she retired to the gardens to read, which turned into a light afternoon nap caused by her boredom and the warmth of the air. Bran was tending to his plants in the greenhouses, the windows opened as he moved the more delicate potted ones to cooler areas to make sure they survived til winter when they were needed the most. She dozes to the sounds of him pottering around and the birds celebrating the warmer weather, despite how fleeting it will be here. Summer never stays for long this far north.

A sound breaks the spell, the noise of wheels rolling over gravel in the distance. She rouses, fully expecting to see her brother on his way towards her but instead catching a man, cap low over his brow, a fair bit aways from her with a wheelbarrow. She could not make out much, only that he was heavy set and strong, muscles working overtime enough that she could see them through his white shirt, even as far away as she was.

She watches him push the overflowing barrow from the greenhouse to around the side of the house, until he had shrunk and disappeared from her field of vision. A drop of cold condensation from her drink slides down her arm, shocking her out of her trance. She turns back to her book, the man lingering in her mind.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Master and Lady Stark have been alone for week and, much to Davos's relief, neither have gotten into much trouble. Master Stark was hardly a problem, he couldn't get too far without help and he was content with the confines of his chair and his home. 
> 
> Lady Stark, however.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PUPPY
> 
>  
> 
> i know i posted c1 like 8 hours ago but like who gives a shit am i right

Master and Lady Stark have been alone for week and, much to Davos's relief, neither have gotten into much trouble. Master Stark was hardly a problem, he couldn't get too far without help and he was content with the confines of his chair and his home.

Lady Stark, however.

Lady Stark was causing quite a stir in her boredom, opting to pass her time attempting to escape the grounds undetected and, when her plans are thwarted, scaring the maids by hiding somewhere in the rooms being cleaned for the day and waiting to be discovered. Gendry is yet to see her, but he hears the surprised yelps of the maids as he does repairs with the workers. 

He met Master Stark, at Master Stark's request, in the greenhouse a few days ago, a fresh and sunny day for him and a sweltering one for those who grew up in the North. The Master observed him for an uncomfortably long time before quietly requesting his help with moving various plants and compost. They worked in silence for around an hour before the heat became too much for the young Master. Gendry wheeled him to the parlor where he sent a maid for a cold drink and food for Gendry and himself, despite Gendry's protests that he was fine, thought of spending with the highborn man, whom he has genuinely nothing in common with, making him very uncomfortable. Master Stark observes him as if he knows this as well, which isn't helping.

"Please, sit and rest. You have helped me immensely today, let me repay your efforts" the young man said. Gendry let out a huff of air. "Forgive me, Sir, but your father pays me more than enough in wage and kindness due to the limited number of drivers to justify me doing some extra tasks around the house" he said.

The Master considered him for a minute, before responding, "Yes he does. But regardless, allow me my own act of kindness in return for the many I'm sure you'll bestow upon me."

Gendry opened his mouth, objections poised ready on his tongue when the maid returned and served him a sweet smelling cordial and a plate of biscuits in the shape of wolves, the family house sigil. 

"Please forgive the biscuits, the cook has an affinity with producing whatever he can think of in the shape of wolves" the Master said after a sip from his cup. 

"Yes, he keeps presenting the staff breakfast in more and more bizarre ways. We have had everything from bread to scrambled eggs to fruit cut into that shape" Gendry took a seat on a nearby chair, careful to sit on the edge to avoid dirtying the fabric and give the family and the maids who clean a reason to hate him. 

The Master's mouth quirked a little, a strange sight for a boy presenting so seriously. "It appears my family and I have been missing out."

"That you have." Gendry laughed.

Silence falls over them, the gramophone quieted long ago. Gendry closes his eyes for a moment, listening to the wildlife outside.

"Are you happy here, Mr Waters?"

Gendry turned to look at the Master. He paused.

"I've only been here a few days, Sir. Hard to decide after such a little time."

Again, the Master considers him for an extraordinarily and uncomfortably long time. Gendry shifts in his seat.

"Mr Waters?"

"Yes Sir?"

"Please, you may call me Bran."

"Thank you, Bran. You may call me Gendry if you wish."

Bran smiled at him, small and thoughtful.

"I have a feeling you'll be with us for quite a while, Gendry. I have a favour to ask of you"

\------

Gendry turned the auto down a dusty road, rougher than the streets of the town. Bran had caught wind that a local farmer's dog just had pups, 6 fluffy, chubby little cubs that the farmer was looking to sell off. Bran had asked Gendry to sneak him out of the house to go and chose one for his sister, so Gendry, as soon as the staff meeting had concluded, told Davos that he was going to the town for parts for the autocars and met Bran in the greenhouse, where he had been wheeled this morning and left alone with the instructions not to bother him at all, even for food and drink. They then hid his chair in the garage and Gendry carried him to the auto, where they drove off into the rapidly warming morning. 

He pulled up to the farmer's homestead, the man and his family waiting outside to greet the young Master. They were lead to the barn where Gendry gently placed Bran on a nearby hay bale as the farmer opened the stall door to reveal the 6 pups and their mother, the formers tumbling out, yapping at the newcomers, and the latter resting in a corner, pleased with the arrival of her owner. 

Bran surveyed them all seriously before asking for the females of the bunch. He was presented with one, a small, drowsy pup with grey fur on her back and white on her stomach, and Gendry was offered the other, bigger, with grey and brown tufts along her back and teeth hellbent on nibbling his hands. Bran's pup licked his chin before promptly falling asleep in his arms while Bran watched Gendry play with the grey and brown one, who nipped at his hands when he stopped his belly rubs for one second and tried to climb on top of him when he picked her up. When he held her up, arms extended so she couldn't keep licking his face, she stopped her wriggles long enough for him to look into her eyes, beautiful grey ones that already reflected love. Gendry passed her to Bran, who was immediately pissed on.

"How much for this one?" 

\------

Bran had asked her to meet him in the parlor, odd, considering she did not know how he got there from the greenhouse without a member of the staff to push him, but she granted his request nonetheless. The gramophone tinkled quietly in the corner, the windows open to let the summer breeze float through the room, Bran sitting in his chair, facing the gardens. 

"You called?" 

He turned over his shoulder to look at her, a small smile on his face. "Yes I did. I have something for you."

She walked around to face him and gasped. A pup, barely 12 weeks old, rested in his arms, tiny tongue sticking out from its mouth. 

"I know you're unhappy, trapped in the house. It's hard for us without all the family together, Robb with Dad in the South, Mum, Sansa and Rickon in the Vale, Jon past the Wall and Theon in the Iron Islands. I know that you miss them and feel lost without them, so this little one is for you, to add to the pack until they all return home." Bran said, eyes soft as he watched her.

Arya's eyes welled up with tears that she only spills around her family, Bran quickly sneaking past her outer armour to hit her where she's been hurting. He hands her the sleeping pup, the new fur soft under her fingers. "I'm sorry she's not awake, but the new chauffeur who drove me there tired her out." He chuckled. "She made sure to bite every part of his hands before she fell asleep on his chest however."

Arya's throat tightened for a second, a new wave of quiet tears threatening to fall. "It's fine," she croaked out, "she's perfect."

Tiny grey eyes looked up at her at the new voice before giving her finger a quick nibble before dozing off again. Her heart gave a quick squeeze. 

"Thank you, little brother." She said as sincerely as she could, trying to put all her unsaid words into her voice so he knew how much such a kindness mattered to her. Bran reached out and pet the pup for a moment.

"She'll need a name. Make it a strong one, big sister."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again dont know where this is going but who cares!
> 
> notes on the speech arya and bran are rich so they dont use contractions but arya will the more time she spends with gendry bc gendry uses heaps of contractions espec with hotpie bc they r our sweet lowborn boys uwu
> 
> they meet in c3 and its spicy


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they meet uwu
> 
> again ive never heard of editing

Nymeria nips at her heels as she runs around the garden with her, shoes off and hair loose. She's grown, even in the week and a half since she joined the family and she gets stronger each day, playing well into the afternoon. Davos had not been impressed at first by Bran's purchase, but she quickly won him over with a few well placed licks to his face. The farmer had given Bran some instructions on training her to relieve herself outside and to respond to certain commands, but aside from the training, Arya mostly passes the days playing. Arya flops to the ground as Nymeria crawls on top of her to lick her face thoroughly. Chuckling, she pulls the excited pup off, opting to settling her on the grass next to her to give her a very big belly rub until she calmed down. The afternoon's exertions, with the gentle breeze and the soft perfume of the wildflowers, lulled them both into a light nap, Arya curled around the ball of fur at her side.

 

She wakes alone, sometime later, with the sun considerably lower in the sky. Panic hits her hard, sharp and twisting her heart as her rib cage suddenly shrinks when she sees a lack of sleeping fluff next to her. She shoots up, turning wildly.

"Nymeria? Nymeria, where are you?" She calls, pausing to listen for her small barks. Instead she gets a very human yelp in response. 

Turning towards the sound, she sees a man in the distance, bending towards something in the tall grass. He picks up a small ball of fluff and holds it at arm's length. Nymeria stops her wriggles immediately and calmly stares up at the man. Arya is thrown as Nymeria has been nothing but a terror for anyone who isn't herself or Bran and other than her first meeting has done her best to remove Davos's fingers. She's yapped at the maids and snuck up on the gardeners, and yet now is cuddled quite comfortably in the arms of this stranger. 

Arya stalks over, determined to find out just who's charmed her dog and when, seeing as she's been with Arya almost non-stop since her arrival on the estate, but as she grows closer to the man, she recognises the shape of his upper body. He's rolled up his sleeves, his tanned arms contrasting heavily with the white of his shirt, which is far too small for the muscles she can see through it. She stops behind him as he turns to face her, demands resting on her tongue, when he looks up from the pup he's currently cradling like a babe. 

Seven hells, his eyes were blue. His jawline was sharp, new growth scattered across it, black hair that had a touch of red in the sunlight through it peaking out from his cap and all of it hits her very quickly. He towers over her, not impressive as she's very small in stature, but by the Gods does it unsettle her. Her heart jumps. She knows what this is, Sansa's described it enough, a sweet smile on her face. She can not have that, so she squashes it all down and pulls herself together.

"Who are you??" She asks, annoyance obvious in her tone

"Who are you?" He counters, a smirk on his face. She looks over herself, her linen trousers borrowed from Rickon and shirt from Bran, both covered in dirt and mud from playing with Nymeria. "He does not recognise me" she realises. "I asked you first" she countered. 

He chuckles. "Ah yes, but I asked you as well and you have not indulged me either, so my question stands." 

He's Southron, which is unexpected. She blinks at his brazen attitude, but she wants her damn dog back and the part of her she's currently fighting really wants him to pick her up. She pauses.

 

"I'm Lady Stark's personal maid. She gave me her new pup to help train." she eventually decides on.

"No you're not"

Arya looks at him, confused. "What do you mean, no I'm not?" 

He considers her a while, taking in her loose hair and shoes in hand.

"Call it a feeling."

She snorts. "A feeling?"

"Fine, a hunch then. I don't know what it is about you, but I know that is not the truth." He says, turning back to give Nymeria a belly rub.

"Well at least I've bothered to answer the question."

"You're stubborn."

"And you're being stupid and purposely avoiding the question."

"As are you, milady."

 

Nymeria decides that she needs to be a part of the conversation, saving the man from Arya's barely contained anger, so with a loud yap, she wriggles out of the man's hold and towards her owner. A broad smile crosses his face, lighting up his eyes, as he holds her out to Arya. "Here, take this little terror. I hope you manage to train her to not bite as hard as she is now."

He gives her a final pat. "She's a sweet little lady though."

"She's not a lady."

Another smile. "Oh but she definitely is. Just like her owner from what I've heard."

Arya looks up again, holding his gaze. She frowns. "And what have you heard?"

"That she's beautiful and fire and ice all in one." He leans in, breath brushing across her cheek.  
"Though I'm not sure how anyone can say that while you exist."

Arya breathes in sharply. Her heart rams against her ribcage. She can't have this. How dare he make her feel like this.

"And what makes you think such words would possibly work on me?" She says, turning towards him as her cheeks heat up, their noses nearly brushing as she looks him in the eye, Nymeria resting comfortably sandwiched between them.

"Call it a feeling." 

And with that he walks away, leaving her, flushed from head to toe, alone with her thoughts and a small wriggling pup.

\------

He walks as normally as he can to the garage. He ducks inside to lean against the closest autocar, heart racing, the smell of the oil he spilt a few days ago still fresh in the air.

He's covered in fur from where Nymeria rested against his chest, he'll have to change before Davos catches him looking like this. He closes his eyes to focus on slowing his heart, but he sees a pair of startling grey eyes as soon as he does, so that plan is very quickly abandoned. 

She was beautiful, tiny and irritated, those eyes flashing as she stomped over to him. She spoke so sharply her words cut at his skin and he loved every slice. Her hair was falling from the braided bun at the base of her head and her cheeks were pink from what was probably the heat. There was a leaf in her hair and by the Gods did he want to remove it for her. She's angry at him and a handful, that's for sure. 

He turns around, surveying the remaining work he has to do on the autos. 

He'll ask Davos for her name before he sees her at the next day's morning meeting.

\------ 

It's been a few days and Arya is yet to see the Man again. In person at least. She's dreamed of him every night and re-lived their encounter every day as she sat in the parlor with Nymeria while the big brass of the Podrick Payne Band played on the gramophone. 

She's getting ready to go to the town to attend to her father's monthly routines, the regular visit from the Lord or Lord's family to each of their tenants to hear their thoughts and requests. It's a Stark tradition to hear what the people have to say and value those people who gave them the position they occupy. In the old days, one person from the town would dine with them every night, but during the Great War it became too hard for the remaining townspeople to make the trek. As a solution, one member from the Stark family, as one must always remain at Winterfell, would every two weeks visit each business in the town and host the town's meeting. Bran attended the meeting a fortnight ago, the reason Arya was now putting on her nicest trousers and shirt. While her attire always causes a stir, the townspeople soon accepted that she was happier this way and will fiercely defend her from those who comment, usually Southrons who still expect a woman to be fashionable and feminine like her sister Sansa. 

Davos has organised the new chauffeur to drive her to and from, a young man from outside the North named Gendry who from all reports seems to be settling into Winterfell quite well, and is making good use of his time as neither her nor Bran need the autos enough.

Her maid is putting her final wave in place when Davos asks if she's ready. She makes her way downstairs and out the door towards the garage, Nymeria spending the day with Bran, when the man catches her eye. 

He's in uniform, a black suit with long tails, and has his cap in hand as he stands to attention, waiting for her. She freezes in place, obscured by the support beams of the garage, heart betraying her yet again. She takes a deep breath. There's no point pretending, he will find out soon enough, if not today then soon, they would see each other in the house or a maid will say something. 

He at least has the decency to look surprised when she steps out. They stare at each other for a second before Arya snaps to action, pulling her gloves on and greeting him. "Are we ready to leave, Mr Waters?"

He visibly pulls himself together. "Yes, milady, ready to go."

She looks at him sharply. "Do not call me that."

He smirks slightly as he opens the auto's door for her.

"Well what am I supposed to call you then?"

She slams the door shut in response, causing him to chuckle as he climbed into the driver's seat.

They drive in silence for 10 minutes, Arya watching the world pass and him focused on the road. She could tell he was stewing on something and was waiting for him to give in as they rattled down the road.

"I'm sorry for my behaviour the other day, Milady. I did not know you were Lady Stark and I acted inappropriat-"

"Mr Waters?"

"Yes, Milady."

"Shut up."

He closed his mouth, another breathtaking smile on his face.

She considers ignoring him for the whole day, would make it easier on her body and mind which was very invested in all sorts of fantasies involving Mr Waters. But they were to be in close quarters until sundown, so she decides to cut out one problem.

"Nearly there Milady."

"Mr Waters, you may use my birthname if you promise to stop referring to me as that. I am not a lady."

"That's a surprise, you sure look like one." He says immediately before catching himself. She nearly laughs at him clearly beating himself up internally for his comment.

"I'm sorry, Milady, that was inappropriate."

"Mr Waters." she says warningly.

"Miss Arya, sorry."

Silence falls again as they pull up to the town. She can not stop her smile and her cheeks feel flushed as she thinks on the way her name sounds on his tongue. "Get it together," she thinks to herself, "You are acting like a child." He opens the door for her to step out.

"Miss Arya?" he asks, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"You may call me Gendry if you'd like." He says as he offers his hand. She does not take it and he seems pleased. "Why would he be pleased at that??" 

"Thank you, Mr Gendry. Off we go, I am meeting the baker first. You are welcome to go about your business in the town but we return at sundown." She turns to leave when he calls out for her again. 

"Can I come with you?"

She whips around. "By the Gods, why?"

"Just interested in what you do." He says with a shrug.

Seven hells, he'll be the death of her. Not only does his presence make her flush more than the heat has ever in her life, but he is becoming more irritating by the second, with his beautiful eyes and smirks. She will not fall for it. 

"Do you not have anything better to do with your time? Errands to run?"

"Yes, but time with you is infinitely more interesting than picking up some obscure herb for Hot-Pie to experiment with," he leans towards her, "Milady."

She will just have to kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im seriously thinking of just having sansa marry joe jonas hes the most valid partner for her
> 
> also podrick payne band is literally just a lazy version of the glenn millar band


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive like agonised over this im sorry guys

He has joined her for every meeting, watching her every move with soft eyes and a gentle smile. It is making her heart race and she does not like one second of it. She could send him away, as every ounce of logic in her mind keeps reminding her, but every now and then he will stand slightly nearer than appropriate and she gets a waft of his pine soap and the oil he uses on the autos and she goes weak at the knees. He asked her question after question, about what the Starks contribute to the land and what industries thrive in the towns. His curiosity surprised her, incessant as it was, as he seriously considered each of her responses and provided an insightful observation every time. Of course he would be intelligent as well as handsome, this was just her luck. He would say something thoughtful and calculated, like an observation on how the Starks are making a positive impact on the local economy by keeping with lower rates for the farmers on their land and her face will heat up like a smitten child and she has to stop herself from swaying towards him. 

This is all highly ridiculous behaviour and not how she wanted to spend her day at all but there is a very small, very deep inside, very traitorous part of her that is pleased to be the focus of his attention. 

She makes to leave the car quickly, once they had returned to the house, but he appears on her side faster than she could exit, hand offered. She hesitates. 

She wants to touch him. She wants to feel the warmth of his hands through her gloves. She wants to hold it for longer than she should. He waits expectantly.

She does not take his hand but looks him in the eye as she climbs out of the auto. A curl of his hair has fallen from under his cap and she stares at the corner of his mouth as it quirks up into a smile. 

"Thank you, Mr Gendry." She breathes out, shakily. "I am sure I will see you about the house in the coming days."

His hand drops. 

"I'm sure you will, Miss Arya." He says sincerely, looking down at her. He gives a short bow, which only brings his face closer to hers, before walking with her to the house in silence and bidding her goodnight. She watches him leave, more confused and annoyed by this change than ever. 

She had promised herself she would not let this happen to her, having watched Sansa fall over and over again and held her while she cried over the smallest of flings until she found Margaery at a speakeasy in Kings Landing. She watched her brothers chase after girls and break hearts and had their hearts broken and she always promised she would never fall in to that trap. Her mother smirked when she first announced this when she was nine and promised her in return, "You just wait. You will find that right person and you will forget this promise." Well here she is, the fool. What a cruel joke. 

Davos is waiting in the dining room that she and her brother had been taking their meals in, considerably smaller than the one used when all the family was home. The echos in the main dining room made it feel as if the room was filled with ghosts when it was empty, and it made the house feel bigger as she shrunk. Her ancestors faces immortalised on the walls of her home, watching her and Bran as they ate. 

She has never liked the portraits. Her aunt Lyanna's is the only one she can properly admire, being the only portrait of someone in motion, a permanent, full body laugh painted in loving detail from memory. Her father once told her that her aunt refused to sit for any portraits and it is the only image of her aunt, other than the bust on the first floor and photographs from their Kodak.

Her father loved his sister the most out of all his siblings and she and Jon would sit for hours at his feet, listening to his stories of her. Wild and rebellious, he had said. She would have loved you, her mother would say to her youngest daughter, chiming in from where she was listening in from her chair at the desk, needlework in her lap.

She had died young, breaking Arya's father's heart in the process. 

Arya eats her meal quietly, only speaking to relay to Bran what the people in the town have to share. With her family away, as the oldest remaining it is up to her to make the day to day decisions for the estate and town. The actual running of the estate, she left to Davos, he knew the staff better and knew what needed to be done, and when there were matters of funding or planning for the coming winter she was involved, monitoring the trade from the town and their own purchases at the house. Any trade with those outside the North needed approval from a Stark, simply to ensure that someone outside the involved parties view the contract and prevent any advantages of the Northron party being taken, so Arya had spent much of her day reviewing contracts, looking for loopholes placed there by the incoming trader. She had spotted one that had been written in, saying that should the trader not be able to supply the stock for any reason, the Northron party would not be able to terminate the contract until the agreed upon expiration. It was an unacceptable clause and she had it removed immediately, much to the trader's anger. 

She had left that meeting feeling triumphant, warm with the thanks from the shopkeeper she was reviewing for, when she caught his eye. He had been waiting for her, leaning against the supports of the shopfront, eyes now focused on her and warming her for any entirely different reason. She tore herself away, frustrated and annoyed that he was there again, grinning at her when she threw him a glare and teasing her on the way to their next appointment, calling her "Milady" and laughing each time as she balls her fists. She very nearly stomped on his foot in retaliation, an act decidedly not out of character for her and what the townspeople would expect from her, but he kept soothing her irritations as quickly as he caused them with a brush against her for a brief moment as he steps to avoid a streetlamp, or a sincere "Miss Arya", her name sounding foreign and delightfully delicious in his accent. 

She sighed heavily to herself, Bran glancing up in confusion at her. Having feelings is so inconvenient.

"So you met Mr Waters?" 

She froze, lemon cake halfway to her mouth. Bran waited expectantly. "Yes, I did" she said slowly.

Bran glanced at the cake. "He is an interesting character, is he not? I had never met a man more uncomfortable with my presence outside what is his duty than him, at least until he chose Nymeria."

That caught her attention. She snapped up to look at him, shocked. "He chose Nymeria??" she asked, the pup in question passed out on her left foot. 

Bran smiled knowingly at her. She hates when he does that. 

"Indeed he did, dear sister. Why? Does that bother you?" he says in a tone that bordered dangerously on singsong. She threw him a glare but he brushed it off with a small yet very smug smile. She puts the lemon cake down. They made her sad anyway, reminding her of how much she misses her sister.

"No it does not, it has just surprised me. She is very dear to me and he did not know me at all when he chose her."

Bran pushed himself back from the table, a footman hurrying over to take the handles of his chair. "It seems he knows you better than anyone without the need to meet you. Sleep well, Arya."

She flushed at his words, confused and furious he would be so cryptic.

"I could stab you in your sleep, you know!" she called after him.

"And yet you still have not!" he called back, smug.

She sat at the table, seething, until the faces on the walls grew in size and reminded her of how empty the house is. She pulled down her sword from the wall, one of the many decorations scattered through the house that she only uses when no one is about, to go out into the still warm night air and swipe at some grass until she figures out what is happening to her. 

\------

He sees her outside, a tiny figure hacking away at the grass in the field well into the night. The figure swings the sword with relative ease and expertise, and the more he watches, the more intrigued he is. It must be Miss Arya, or there was a very strange maid in their midst. She goes through practiced motions, slicing through the air so quickly that the only way he can see the sword is by the glint of the light from the house off it.

He's curious, so he makes his way downstairs and outside.

She's gone when he walks out to where she standing, a circle of flowers hacked to pieces the only indication she ever was there. The breeze floats across the meadow and through the surrounding woods, cool against his face. He breathes deeply, letting his lungs fill with the clean air, and listens to the sweet chirps of the grasshoppers. 

Crack!

He turns to the woods, the sharp sound echoing in the quiet. He can't see a thing, both in the woods and because of the darkness. The house looms over the plains, offering light from the occupied rooms, but the electric lights, while better than the candle and gas light he survived on as a child, still only do so much and he did come out with no aid. 

He reaches the edge of the trees when he calls out, "Miss Arya?" He gets no response so he goes a step further, eyes peeled for foxes sneaking up on the livestock.

Quick as lightning he's slammed against a tree with such force it winds him, catching him off guard, a blade at his throat and a strong arm pushing against his chest as intense grey eyes stare at him through the dark. She's got him pinned, the blade holding him in place more than the arm but she's strong for someone so small, the heel of her palm pushing into the muscle between his rib cage and his shoulder that was starting to hurt. She's not even using the sword, at some point switching the long blade for a small dagger. Did she have that hidden? Was it always with her? He's breathing too fast and his heart is smashing against his chest and he's sure she can feel it but she has a knife to his throat so he's sure it's what she expected. Seven Hells, she may actually kill him. Maybe he overstepped with his teasing? Regardless she's glaring at him and her grip tightens and Gods she's so beautiful and his blood is very hot and running south and this is an increasingly bizarre experience for him. 

"What are you doing here?" she all but growls at him. She's breathing as hard as him and is flushed, her hair loose and wild around her face. "I saw you from the window, Miss Arya. I was only curious!" he forced out.

She moved in close, centimetres from his face. He can see her better, faint freckles across her nose from the sun and her dark eyelashes. "No, you idiot. What are you doing here."

He's so confused and his body is so hot and she's so close and so angry and Seven Hells she presses the knife the smallest amount more and he can feel it cold on his skin.

He reaches up to hold her wrist. She doesn't fight as he guides the hand away, dagger now pointed away from them, but she stays strong against him, fingers digging into his shoulder. 

"Have I done something to offend you?"

"You have only been here, what, three weeks? How have you managed to get on my nerves this much in such a short time?"

Something bubbles inside him, mostly fear from the knife, but also anger. 

"It seems to me, milady, that you might be looking for a reason to be angry with me. I hardly know you, you hardly know me and I have only spoken to you once before today. I don't have a single clue why you're so bothered so much by me so feel free to tell me when during that time I've managed to get on your wrong side." His hand has moved to her wrist of the hand on his chest, wrapped around it, not tightly but firmly enough for her to feel it.

"It is everything you do, stupid! You say we hardly know each other yet you speak me like you do and tease me to no end! You insist on standing too close and make me feel strange and fine, I admit, I do not understand why you bother me so but you do and I can not have that."

She's so close he can nearly feel her sharp words on his skin, slicing him in neverending sweet torture. He needs to control himself. "Should I leave then? Will that ease your suffering, Milady?" he scoffs.

She drops the dagger. "By the Gods would you just shut up" she breathed, her hand nearly ripping his shirt with how hard she pulled him towards her.

They crash together, his hand holding the back of her neck. It's brutal and their teeth clash but he must have something done right because this is messy and perfect and she's pressed against him and he very nearly believes in the Seven because this is what the first heaven must be. He's got a hand on her back and she's got a leg between his, up on her toes to reach his mouth. She pushes him hard against the tree, bark digging into his shoulders and scratching his back through his shirt. He'd rather it was her doing that, so he moves to her neck, biting and soothing the sting with big open kisses, her hard breathing in his ear, and he lets out a laugh when she makes a quiet, small sound as he nips behind her ear and she drags him back to her mouth. She's pulling him down to her enough that he stumbles, forced to grab her hips to steady himself, never leaving her mouth, and her breath hitches as his teeth accidentally sinks into her bottom lip slightly harder than planned. She retaliates by pushing him onto the forest floor where he landed heavily, dazed and out of breath. 

The spell broken, they stare at each other, panting, him waiting until she decides to move. She's a dream, one of his more recent ones to be exact, but that's because she plays a starring role in them. Her shirt is askew and her mouth is swollen, her neck littered with small red marks and she looks like a vision. Exactly like he dreamed and also nothing he could have possibly imagined all at once. She's too far for him to pull her down to him but by all the Gods, Old and New, he wants to, wants her across his lap and forcing him back with the same determined look in her eye that she just had when she first leaned in. Maybe with the knife in hand but that's a thought to contemplate at another time. 

Arya moves towards him carefully, hesitantly reaching out, so he sits up to meet her hand, fingers tracing his mouth, touching him so lightly he can barely feel like. She's so small that sitting up, he's in line with her chest, his eyes on her face as she looks down at him. He catches her hand lightly, so as to not alarm her, and places a kiss on her wrist over her racing pulse, as gentle as he can manage. She looks up from his mouth when he sees a flash of panic in her eyes. Snatching her hand back sharply, she steps back. She grabs the dagger and the sword from a spot he hadn't seen and all but runs to the house. 

"Miss Arya?" He called after her. She's disappeared into the house by the time he's upright. His lips are tender and the spot on his shoulder where she was pushing was starting to hurt, she's probably bruised him to hell and back, a sweet souvenir for later. "Gods what is wrong with you?" he whispers to himself as he follows the path she left back to the house. If his fingers kept wandering back up to touch his lips and remind himself, that was for him and him alone to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> arya tops uwu


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot to post thanks to milli185 for reminding me
> 
> whos editing never heard of her

Arya did not sleep, couldn't calm her mind even for half an hour so in the early morning, well before dawn, she conceded defeat and wandered down to the kitchens. 

"Hot Pie are you in here?" She called as she padded into the main space where he does to most of his baking. Many times she would walk in at increasingly random times during the night and he would still be there, baking or sometimes resting on the benches around the staff dining table. Tonight it seems wasn't an exception.

"Arry? That you?" said the man, head poking up from behind the workbench where dough waited. He was covered from head to toe in flour. Again.

She sighed. "When will you learn to watch where you walk? I am sure the maids have had enough of having to clean up after you this much." She offered her hand to him to pull him up, watching as a cloud of flour flew off him with the movement. "What are you making this morning?" she asked while she climbed up onto a nearby bench to watch. Legs swinging, she grabbed a nearby wolf-shaped teacake. It's blueberry, Jon's favourite, and her heart hurts a little at the taste. She has to put the cake down. 

Hot Pie gives her a big smile and starts kneading, ignoring his current state of ghostly white. "I'm trying to create a pastry filled with custard. But this is the fourth time I've tried and each attempt has fallen apart as I've filled it. The chickens are getting a good feed out of it though, they'll be well fat by autumn which is good for us, bad for the chickens, I 'spose, but at least the pastries aren't going to waste. Sorry, did you come down looking for breakfast? I can make you something if you wish! What do you want? I have eggs or I could make you some bacon or we could have crepes? I just made a sou-' 

"I am fine, Hot Pie. Thank you, but I just could not sleep." she cut in. "Is the only reason your pastries are not working because you tried to make it look like a wolf again?" 

Hot Pie gave her a look, which she suspects might be a scowl if she could see his face properly, but she's known Hot Pie her whole life, she knows his mannerisms and the faces he pulls.

"Yes." He says in a small voice. She smirks at him, which prompts him to try to throw some flour at her that ends up almost entirely on him, making her laugh harder, feeling lighter already. He goes to clean his face when they have had their fun.

"So who's got you in my kitchen at this hour this time?"

Hot Pie knows her well.

"I think you'll find it is my kitchen you are in."

He throws her a strange look, but does not take her bait. 

"Don't avoid the question."

Hot Pie knows her too well.

She sighs again. Watching her legs as they swing back and forth, she debates telling him what happened. She would, normally, but Hot Pie would know Gendry and she knows Hot Pie just as well, she knows he would eventually say something in the middle of all his talking without realising. 

Her friend walked over, concerned. "Arry are you alright? You're thinking really hard there and you shouldn't do that too much, you might get injured."

A laugh bursts out of her. "You can not go around repeating my insults Hot Pie! That is theft and I will not stand for it!" she says, a grin spreading on her face.

"But it's true!" 

He comes to sit next to her, dough abandoned again on the counter. She rests her head on his shoulder, flour starting to cover her clothes. They sit in comfortable silence for a while, until her legs go numb from the edge of the table.

"A man kissed me last night." she finally said, quiet in the early dawn.

Hot Pie turned to her, alarmed. "A man? Who? Why?"

"What, can a man not just want to kiss me?" She said indignantly. 

"No they can't! All the men in town are too afraid of your family to try even if you wanted them to! Wait, does this mean he's from out of town? Is it a trader? Did you meet them while you were negotiating with the traders yesterday? How did you find the time to meet someone during all your meetings? What do they trade? Are you going to see them again? I could make you dinner if you'd like that, I wonder what he'd enjoy. Is he one of the Essos trad-" 

"Hot Pie! I know I tell you all my secrets but please, I ask you to let me hold on to this one for until I decide on what to do next. I know you're curious, but I am so very confused right now about how I feel and about what happened. I promise you, if I see him again, you will be the first to know." 

He nudged her shoulder, face full of affection but also concern. "After him, of course." he said with a smirk. She rolled her eyes. 

"What can you tell me then? Can I know his name?" he asked.

She scoffed. "Of course not, that would be far too easy for you. I can tell you that he is from out of town, he irritates me to no end, and he has kind eyes. Also he is very big. He is a whole head and then some taller than me."

"Ah, so an average height then?" 

She threw the teacake at him.

Jeyne, one of the scullery maids, walked in on their battle, cakes and flour flying across the room, and tsked. "Miss Arya! You should leave before Mr Davos finds you distracting the cook again! Quick, the rest of the maids will be here soon, we can clean up for you." She said, weaving around the mess on the floor. "Gods no, Jeyne! I helped make this mess, I'll help you clean it up." Arya responded, catching yet another odd look being directed her way from Hot Pie out of the corner of her eye. "Alright, Miss Arya, but we'd better move fast."

Jeyne passed Arya a broom from behind the door while she fetched some water to wash the remaining flour after Arya has removed it. Hot Pie returned to his dough, as the staff will be filtering in looking for their breakfast soon. The three of them chatter as they work, Jeyne regaling Arya with the tales of her nieces and nephews until the floor is clean once again and Arya makes her escape, just as one of the footmen arrived. Feeling lighter, she promised Hot Pie and some of the staff to return later to have lunch together, which if her family was home would annoy them to no end, her mother and sister especially. 

Sansa and Arya used to fight about Arya's choice in friends all the time as children, Sansa never understanding how Arya could have more fun playing with swords with the butcher's son over reading in the garden with girls from school who had come to visit for the summer. Her mother always believed in showing care and respect to the staff but befriending them and spending all her time with them was a step further than Lady Stark would have liked. Arya snuck out of the house to play with Hot Pie too often for them to successfully stop her, so they eventually accepted the fact that if she was missing she would be found in the kitchens stealing food or, on Saturdays, in the carriages teaching Tyene, one of the charwomen, what she had learned at school that spring. Her father asked that she always take dinner with the family but ultimately let her be, much to her mother's disappointment. 

A family so big but she felt isolated so often, especially when Jon left. The staff were her closest friends, the sons and daughters brought to the house with their parents or who lived on the grounds her childhood playmates. Bran was still healing, Rickon too young, Jon too far, Robb and Theon too old and Sansa… Sansa was Sansa. 

Sansa and her have reconciled their differences, but they still have their issues. She still does not understand Arya, but Arya understands her now. She was so caught up in the sweetness of the world, the warm rich tones of romantic words and the soft smell of flowers in glass vases. A wonderful, kind world, where girls wore pretty dresses and well-dressed high borns were the pinnacle of manners and politeness, never to hurt anyone. 

She hid the scars well then and still does now, a mask in place whenever she returns home, a beautiful smile fixed firmly in place. Now, though, she will allow herself to slip in front of Arya, of all people. Arya offered to kill him for her, as did all her brothers and father and quite a number of the staff closest to the family, those trusted to keep the true reason for the broken engagement to themselves. She politely declined, knowing that Arya would definitely do it if she said yes and wishing to spare everyone the fallout of that. They were still recovering from the war at that time, rebuilding taking most of the Stark's attention, funds and manpower. Their brothers begrudgingly promised not to murder the Lannister scum but they were not the ones to hold Sansa when she woke herself from another nightmare that first night in the hospital. 

Their relationship as sisters changed, for the better but for the worst reason. Sansa now writes weekly when they are parted, often now she spends most of her time staying with Margaery in Highgarden, and they spend time together when she is home, sipping tea in the parlor or library and learning to enjoy the other's presence. Arya misses her sister, misses the sisterly insults that used to hurt but now come from a playful place, and she misses laying outside with her head in her sisters lap, hair a mess as she tries to weave flowers into it. As a child, she never thought they could learn to be close, to appreciate the differences between them, but now she finds herself waiting eagerly for Sansa's letters and missing her sweet floral perfume. 

Sansa would know what to do in her situation.

\-----

She gave in to her musings and called her sister. The operator connected her to her Aunt's house and her heart squeezed when Sansa's voice filtered through the black earpiece. It's the smallest things that remind her how divided her family is and how, even though she has Bran with her, lonely she feels without them all together. 

"Hello sister? Are you there?" Sansa asked.

Arya swallowed. "Yes Sansa, I am here. It's good to hear your voice. How is Mother?"

"As fine as she can be, considering the circumstances."

"The circumstances?" 

Sansa sighed heavily. "It seems our dear youngest brother has succumbed to youthful desires and is infatuated with a local villager." 

"I see." Arya chuckled, "Does she return his affections?" 

"Gods, no. She is thankfully completely oblivious to Rickon, as he hides whenever she passes him in the nearby town. Mother is counting her blessings she does not have to deal with a summer affair, though I think this visit to our aunt would be far more entertaining if he managed to work up the courage to speak to the girl." Her tone was wistful, probably caught in a memory of her own summer romances when she herself was 16, before it turned sour.

"It sounds as if you are suffering some tedious fate. Are you truly that bored in the Vale without me?" Arya teased. 

"You know I miss you dearly, sister. Our arguments make time pass faster now that we are grown." Arya smiled at her sister's words. "I miss you too." she said.

Their conversation paused, words Arya wished to say lingering in the air, and not for the first time since her family had split for the summer she wished Sansa was here to use her uncanny ability to know what a person needed but struggled to say. Sansa was the true leader of the two of them. She always could read people well, which when they were young frustrated Arya to no end. She always knew how Arya felt, but, in her immaturity, never why. Sansa was the true leader, and far more in every manner than Arya could ever have hoped to be. She was prettier, sweeter, calmer, and wiser. Arya began to spend her time with the staff instead of her sister because they liked her more than they liked her sister and that was the truth of it.

"Is everything alright, Arya? I can hear you thinking, where did your mind just go?" Sansa's voice filtered through, a sweet song that sharpened Arya's arising anxieties. She hesitated.

Her thousands of questions that kept her awake all the night ran through her mind. Why did he come to me? Why did he follow me around the town? What did he mean when he said he would prefer my company? Why did I kiss him and why did he kiss me back? Why did he kiss Arya Horseface and why do I feel so strongly towards someone I have barely interacted with? She knows what Sansa would say, and also knows nothing at all of what she would say. 

This is a new feeling, of her racing heart when she would catch him watching her with soft eyes while the wandered the town, or the pull in her stomach when his strong, calloused hands, held her hips firmly as they kissed. She kissed a man she barely knows! They talk of Rickon and his summer romance but here she is with her own, or does he not want that? She is his employer and it would hardly be appropriate for the two of them to be together, he would be risking his job if her father did not approve, but what if he does not want any form of a relationship and she is here, thinking of him like some silly schoolgirl with a crush, when she has never even considered a man romantically before. Her thoughts spiral, spinning nearly out of control and tasting very seriously of nerves, fear and insecurity. 

"Arya?"

She's pulled back abruptly. She can not tell Sansa, not yet. "It's nothing, Sansa. Just that the house is emptier without everyone, it is making me feel sorry for the day when Mother and Father are here alone and we have moved on to our own lives." 

Sansa's sweet laugh rings clear over the telephone. "You know Robb and Bran will never leave Winterfell, Robb needs to learn how to maintain the house and grounds and Bran would never leave his garden. I am surprised you have left the house in this future you have imagined, though. You have never showed any desire to move away in the past, what has changed? Please give me all the news, I am desperate for something new and juicy!" She says, and Ayra can see her, properly sitting next to the telephone, with a smile that lights up her whole face and one foot tucked behind the other.

"Oh no, I can hear Davos calling me, I have to go, Sansa! So sorry to cut this short but he sounds very serious, so I really must go." 

"No he is not! Do not avoid the questi-"

"It's been lovely talking, we must speak again soon! Goodbye Sansa!" 

She very quickly returned the earpiece to its holder, the silence of the afternoon settling around her. Wishing she could soothe her worries, she calls for Nymeria, a loud crash coming from a nearby room and a playful yap responding as the growing pup bounds into the room and jumps up onto her. A play in the fields would do the both of them some good it seems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really have no idea where this is headed

**Author's Note:**

> also i dont know where this is going 
> 
> also shout out to sam bc they are good and kind and i love them credit for the great clegane joke goes to them
> 
> edit: forgot to say titles from Billie Holiday's song I'll be seeing you and also this fic has two playlists one of songs from the Èra du Jazz that i will link when i figure out how to link and Lorde's sophmore album Melodrama in order of tracklisting both available on spotify


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